Love is not for a man like him (Agent Twilight)

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He conditioned himself from the start. He knew it was impossible. Yet here he was, having illogical battles against his own reasoning. Chained between truths and lies.

Twilight was never an irrational man. He knew his priorities. Set them in ladders and stairs, distinguished one from the other. He thought he had it all planned out. And if anything were to go out of track in the sets and steps he'd laid down, then his contingency plans came in.

Flawlessly evading the problem. Or throwing it completely out the window.

But who would've thought a problem came in that he couldn't prepare a backup plan for. But was it really a problem? Were problems supposed to make you happy? Make you smile genuinely? Make you anticipate another day when he could wake up and listen to her greet him a soft "Good Morning".

At the beginning, he was confident. He took pride in his profession. Fake feelings weren't new to him and his missions and that included the most forbidden emotion he'd abandoned ever since he started as a spy. His façade, a mask he could wear and remove anytime he wished. Then moments came where he would be possessed by the character 'Loid Forger' he'd made himself. And he thought. Fuck. This is bad.

"Oh! Mr. Forger, you have a bouquet today! Such a sweet husband, I'm quite jealous of Miss Yor. You seem to love her very much." The old lady who lives adjacent to our unit commented. Twilight, or rather, 'Loid' automatically gave a courteous smile. I'm only doing this because I heard you and the other neighbors gossiping again about our 'unnatural marriage relationship.'

"Yes... I do. Well then, have a good day Ma'am." He tugs at the front of his hat lightly before entering the apartment. Love? It was such a foreign term to Twilight when he was just an empty shell, only being inserted in different names, personalities, emotions, all in accordance to what each mission needed.

He had no need for such a ridiculous thing.

"Oh, Loid welcome ho—" Yor stops and gapes at the large bouquet. Twilight looks away as he hands over the bouquet to Yor. "They're for you. The neighbors were—"

Twilight's defense was stopped in a heartbeat, suddenly coming into his vision one of the most problematic sights in his mission. Yor smiled at him ever so brightly, a rose-pink tint adorning her cheeks, her beautiful ruby orbs looking down to admire the flowers and back at him. He was taken aback; caught off guard.

"Thank you Loid. They're very... beautiful. This made me happy, really." Yor looks at him with a gentle smile.

Twilight was once told by a senior spy of his that "Love" was the most convenient tool but also the hardest to control and to simulate into action because with it, you could eat someone up to your own plans... but it could also end up consuming you sooner than you would notice.

He knew this emotion wasn't for a man like him. And he needed to do something before falling to the latter.

Had he known "Love" would be this hard, he would have put his guard up earlier. But, would it really make any difference?

Somewhere deep inside him answered. "No it won't. Admit it."

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